


You've Got The Love

by GirlDressedInBlack



Category: Doctor Who, Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-30
Updated: 2018-06-30
Packaged: 2019-05-31 08:53:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 280
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15116012
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GirlDressedInBlack/pseuds/GirlDressedInBlack
Summary: The Doctor and the Mistress were linked intrinsically. No matter what they would be there for the other even if they had vowed to not.





	You've Got The Love

"You said you wouldn't see me ever again." Her voice is a murmur, half aware as she hangs by her wrists, hands limp and toes pointed to the ground. The Doctor gently lifts her head, brushing a thumb over the bruise above her left eye, dry dirt almost obscuring it.

"The Doctor always lies." He replies, voice rough as he watches her eyes wander, pupils wide.

She smiles despite it all and he hangs his head at the sight.

"And the Doctor will always try to save the Master if they really need it." She almost sings, weak and lilting in and out of hearing, lips parted, dry.

"Mistress." He says with a frown, unable to say more.

His hand drops from her face and he gently holds her waist with that arm, holding her close to him so she can't slip as another hand reaches up with the sonic.

She doesn't react much, brows furrowing in confusion as she tries to figure out what he's doing, mind addled by sleeplessness, pain, hunger and thirst.

There's a buzz and a click and she's released into his arm, soft and chilled with so many awkward angles it hurts to hold her. She's too weak to wrap her arms around him so flops, head over his shoulder, singing some delirious tune which threads from Gallifreyan to Russian to Martian to fifth-third century Carinthian.

The Doctor rearranges her limp form in his arms, holding her close to him, warming her as much as he can with his own body heat.

"Shh." He murmurs, lips to her hair which lolls against his shoulder, so small.

She hums even smaller contented noises in return, fragmented.


End file.
